graveyard shift
by Tommy.k.oneshot
Summary: Leonard disliked working the graveyard shift at the hospital. Leonard really disliked working in the ER. And working the graveyard shift in the ER? He really wished he hadn't lost that bet with M'Benga. modern au. pastel punk!jim


Leonard disliked working the graveyard shift at the hospital. Leonard really disliked working in the ER. And working the graveyard shift in the ER? He really wished he hadn't lost that bet with M'Benga. But he had, so here he was. Sitting in the break room, drinking his fourth (or was it fifth?) coffee of the night, at 3 am, having just set a broken pinky of a drunk man. He had picked up his book and read about a paragraph when he was paged again. With a sigh he put it down and got to his feet, walking over to the bed that required his attention.

At first all he saw a head of pale lavender hair. Oh great, he thought to himself, a collage kid with alcohol poisoning or having a really bad trip.

"Alright kid," he looked down at the chart, "Jim, what did you take and how much?" He grumbled as he pulled on his gloves. He looked up at the kid waiting for his reply and was struck by the most beautiful pair of ice blue eyes he had ever seen.

" I didn't take anything doc." And thats when Leonard registered the rest of the situation. Jim's upper arm is wrapped in what is presumably his bloody t-shirt, as he was currently shirtless. His naked chest and most of his arms were covered in traditional, floral, and line-work tattoos. He wore tight black skinny jeans and pastel green doc martins, along with a powder pink belt. He had small spacers in his ears along with several silver studs, and there was a big diver ring in his nose.

"Oh right. Sorry, collage kid, first assumption. I'm doctor McCoy. Now let me see that arm."

Jim held his arm out with a small hiss. "It's ok, I get it. Gentle please."

Leo nodded and started to unwrap the soaked through shirt. It took him a while to get it off as Jim had done it tightly in order to try and lessen blood flow. As he finally pulled the last of it away Jim bit his fist, the cotton of the shirt had stuck to the injury and didn't want to let go of his skin.

"Sorry about that." Leo examined the gash in his arm. "Jesus kid, this is going to need like fifty million stitches. What did you do?" As he talked he started to clean the dry and new blood from his skin, trying to be as gentle as possible.

"There was a guy at the bar, he was harassing this lady. I told him to back off and leave her alone. But he was one of those creepy entitled assholes you know? So when he didn't respond to me asking nicely….. I asked him not so nicely….. and then when that didn't work I asked him with my fist, and then is escalated and i ended up with a large piece of glass in my arm. So I wrapped it in my shirt and walked here….." His train of throughout trailed off as he glanced down at his arm and got a good look at the cut for the first time that night. "Aw fuck!"

"Yeah, its pretty bad." Leo started to get the needle and thread ready.

"No, it goes right through my tattoo. Bones you gotta stitch it so the tattoo lines up."

"Don't pander to me kid. All I have to go is stitch it up clean and safe. And what did you just call me?"

"I called you Bones. The lady at the front, she said thats what you normally do, deal with peoples bones. And please? Thats the newest one, and it cost me a lot of money."

"Its going to have a scar through it no matter what I do kid, I'm not a damn plastic surgeon. What is it anyways? I can't tell throughout the blood."

"Its a lenten rose. Come on please?"

"Fine, whatever. I'll see what I can do. I'm a doctor, not a magician. Now hold still." As he began to stitch him up Jim sat as still as humanly possible, not wanting to fuck it up. Leonard grumbled to himself as as he worked, every now and then getting the other man to hold this, or pass him that. And if he spent a little more time than usual making his stitches small and straight, and lining the skin up, it was no one's business but his. So what if the guy he was cleaning up happened to have a tattoo of his mothers favourite flower, and a well done one at that, on his shoulder. It wasn't making him give out special treatment, he just didn't want to be bitched at for screwing up the art work. The stitching took a solid half hour, and when it was done Leonard most certainly did not feel up Jim's arm as he cleaned off the last of the blood before taping a square of gauze over it.

"There, all patched up," he said, standing. Now strand up and let me check the rest of you for injuries."

Jim slid off the table slowly, and smirked "you just want an excuse to check me out and feel me up."


End file.
